Wheel In The Sky
by BIGDAMNGRIZZLYBEAR
Summary: When Blue Hands show up during a job, River gets help from an unusual source. Roland climbed his Tower, but lost his family and, after a Todash accident, his sense of purpose as well. But Ka has a way of getting you back on your feet and into the game. First time writing, gonna be a long one, rating might change. PLEASE read and review
1. Chapter 1

**Wheel In The Sky**

By Bigdamngrizzlybear

_(a/n: I came up with this as a result of an intense Firefly addiction as well as having read The Dark Tower for literally my entire life. I was born just before The Gunslinger was published, and at the speed the first three books were written, it took until I was almost thirty for the tale to be told. It was the idea of the doors on the beach being able to go anywhere or anyWHEN that got this one going in my head. Also, last I checked, there was exactly ONE crossover between these two great stories. You should read the Dark Tower series, by Stephen King, first. You probably won't make any kind of sense out of Roland's world or story otherwise. There is a TON of detail in over 4500 pages of the Dark Tower series, so if I make any mistakes they are unintentional. It is also my first time writing, fanfic or otherwise, so be gentle.)_

Disclaimer: Don't own any of 'em, wish I did. I'm not making any money, it's okay to leave the lawyers in their coffins 'till the sun comes up.

Chapter 1: He Just HAD To Say It.

"GORRAMMIT!" Jayne thought as he saw the purple-bellies coming down the street towards them, two full squads already spread out in loose wedge formations, making it impossible to use EITHER direction for an escape. Normally that wouldn't be no kinda issue, 'cept that this particular job was takin' place on a crowded street, where some thoughtless _hundan_ had put the local Alliance payroll. Made it all kinda difficult for any honest thieving' to be done if you had a couple dozen of the local outpost about to be up your _pi gu_ screwin' up your getaway plans. Jayne smirked to himself at that one. Like he hadn't been waiting for something like this to happen, even more as the job got closer to being done. Mal didn't never have a plan that went smooth, an' they all knew it. Don't try to tell HIM that though, man was like to swell up and get all captain-y, say things like, "Jayne, I don't pay you for your deep insight, when I'M the Captain of this boat"

"But Mal, all's I"m sayin is-"

"Jayne, remember that thing I told you about your mouth running?"

"yeah, Mal but.."

"No "buts" Jayne. This here is supposed to be a real easy take. Badger says that the payroll is stored there in the basement vault, prior to being collected for the outpost paymaster office. We hit just before noon, day before pickup, when the noontime traffic gives us some cover, slip out of the crowd, ten minutes later slip back into the crowd, melt away. Easy-Peasy."

Jayne had winced when Mal said that, knowin' full well that he had laid the Malcolm Reynolds Curse on the job, just like tellin' a pitcher he had a no-hitter going back on Earth-That-Was. Didn't that man have the sense God gave a goose? Even the pansy-ass Doc knew better than to say anything like that, an' he hadn't even been on Serenity two years yet!

"Aww, Hell.", Jayne grumped to himself, as he looked down on the crowded streets through binoculars. He eyed the bar across the street and briefly thought about how good a beer would taste right now, but then dismissed the idea. At least the man had had the sense to let him get to high ground, or in this case, A rooftop. What with this being an Alliance pay office on an Alliance moon, Jayne had thought it best to get high and give everyone some cover. This here was really a job for two riflemen, or ideally FOUR men, one man spotting for each shooter, and facing different directions, since Mal, in his infinite Captainy Wisdom, had decided to pull a job on a street that was open on both ends, meanin' that Jayne had to basically just look through binoculars the whole time,back and forth, trying to cover two directions. A rifle barrel moving around that much would be seen too easily, so he had to leave his best girl laying beside him. Jayne grinned at that thought, remembering the fight at the Heart of Gold, hadn't hardly had time to get his drawers on proper when the trouble had come over the hill. "Now THAT was my idea of fightin", Jayne thought, as he lay under the tarp on the rooftop, grinnin' from ear to ear, "Fighting, ruttin' and a pretty girl handing me loaded girls just as fast as I could shoot em' dry." Jayne laughed, at the accidental double-intendre in his thoughts when the earpiece of his comms crackled out, "Man-Called-Jayne, the Girl does NOT appreciate your musings and mental wandering about past conquests when you are supposed to be watching her back. Also the memories are icky." Jayne's mod went immediately from amused to angry, "Gorrammit, girl, I've told you before about peeking! You're gonna get me in trouble with-"

"Have no fear, Man-called-Jayne, Captain Daddy knows that the Man-Called-Jayne ocasionally needs his woman to keep him in line." Jayne could almost see the little self satisfied smile that she wore when she had figured something that was right smart out before anyone else even knew there was a problem, or when they had had a right good tussle in the cargo bay, or right after they had just-

"FOCUS,JAYNE!"

"Sorry, Darlin', but that pretty little mouth of yours would make any man what wasn't sly lose his focus. And I'll have you know there ain't a thing in the Verse' that scares me! Just don't want to have tangle with Zoe too, you know she'd back Mal right or wrong.", Jayne said, feeling a little ashamed for letting his focus slide at a time like this, He was supposed to be a professional, not some kid at his first rodeo!

"All is well, Man-Called-Jayne, the Girl never doubted your fearlessness nor your abilities to protect the family. Just be vigilant, make sure all stays well, so that when we return to the ship, all can be VERY well." that last delivered in a husky whisper that had begun to haunt Jayne's dreams, whether or not he was awake.

"Tross, it's hard enough to do an honest job of thievin' without my two gunfighters puttin' creepifyin' images in my head." they both heard Mal say.

"The Girl apologizes, Captain-Daddy. She will strive to remain more professional."

"NOW who's losin' the focus, eh, girlie?" Jayne grinned as he glassed the street, the grin falling off his face like it had never been there, " Aie ya tien ah, River,..." Jayne started to say, seeing figures wearing the distinctive armor of alliance infantry rounding the corner, and coming down the street in loose formation.

"I have already alerted the captain to the Alliance presence outside the bank, Jayne.", River said, all playfulness gone from her voice, not her crazy killer woman gear, but controlled and precise.

"Jayne? You got eyes on the imminent violence headed our way?", Jayne heard Mal ask, tension tight in his voice.

"I got ten purple-bellies on the west end of the street, Mal, little heavy, but might just be a standard patrol..." Jayne's words cut off as he swiveled the other direction and swore, "Gao yang jong du goo yang, nope Mal, we ain't that lucky, I got another ten on the east end of the street, looks like they aim to either catch us in a pincer move or try to stack up and storm the bank...nope, they're stoppin' about twenty yards out, trying to look all casual." Jayne said, eyeing the rest of the street. "looks like the civilians ain't buyin' the act either, the whole damn street's emptying out, least we won't have to worry about using any of my "little buddies", Jayne said, thinking of the bandoleer of grenades he took on EVERY job now, no matter what the captian said.

"Jayne, you mean to say you brought grenades, even after I told you to leave em' back at the boat? I thought we already had this discussion about who was and wasn't captain here..."

"Reavers, Captian-Daddy," Jayne heard River interject.

"Tross' I'm well aware of what happened last time we hit a bank.." Mal started to object,

"Operative, Sir," Jayne heard Zoe chime in, as he pulled Vera close and clipped her sling into place on his armor.

"Zoe? You too? I thought we had this whole 'agree with the Captians orders thing' going on on this boat"... Mal kept on, trying to retain some shreds of dignity in the argument he was rapidly losing.

"Hey Mal? Can we please continue this conversation about "The rules of Captainy Respect" back at the boat, after we survive the Malcolm Reynolds Curse? Again?" Jayne asked, feeling the adrenaline of combat starting to flow into his system.

"FINE.", Jayne heard Mal harrumph, though he swore he could have heard him mutter things about who was the Captian, no respect, airlocks, pay cuts, and other things as he readied three grenades in a row beside him.

"Jayne? I will handle the west end if you will deal with the east." Jayne heard River say, as he made certain that Vera's safety was off, and pulled the tarp off of himself, getting ready to throw the first two grenades.

"Fine, girlie. I'll throw three and then take the rest from the ground." Jayne said, now ready and waiting.

"Just how are you intendin' on getting' down from your perch there, Jayne?" Mal asked.

"Gotta rope and harness up here, Mal. Me an River worked it out ahead of time. When you hear three go off, River goes first an' then you an' Zoe haul ass. Get out fast and get on the mule. Me an' River will deal with these Hwoon Dans. Is the pay loaded?"

"All but the last trip. Me and Zoe'll carry that out whilst Tross and yourself earn your cut"

"Any chance of eleven percent?" Jayne asked, not being able to resist needling the Cap just a little.

"Don't push it none, Jayne" Mal said, still sounding a mite put out over the Curse proving out AGAIN.

"Alrighty then," Jayne said, eager to stop talking and start shooting. "Hey, River?" He said, picking up two grenades, hooking both pins over Vera's cocking handle, and yanking them loose.

"Yes, Jayne?" And he swore he could HEAR her predatory little smile.

"Cry Havoc...", Jayne said, grinning.

"And let slip the dogs of war.", She finished.

Jayne started throwing.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER TWO: A New Path, Old Ka

Roland of Gilead was a man who always dealt with his problems in a straight ahead manner. A man named Walter had once long ago (or maybe not long ago, maybe in the future, or even sideways in time, who could tell when the impossible has happened) told him that he was unimaginative, that he had a straight ahead type of intellect. His teacher, Cort, had thought him perhaps stupid. That was, until he passed his test of manhood, and earned the right to wear the guns that now encircled his hips. He had won that test through sacrificing his hawk, David. Using one living weapon to best another, so that he might in turn become one himself.

The gunslinger snorted, at the turn of phrase in which he had thought of himself. Gunslingers were so much more than that, were statesmen, keepers of the law, Guardians of order against chaos. Above all else they had been a symbol of the fact that there WAS order, a kingdom, something to keep men from acting as so many animals. They had often been thought of as knights much the same as the Round Table in the stories from before the world moved on. In the same fashion as knights, he had had a Quest, to get to the Dark Tower. The Tower was always thought of as the center of the universe, as the place from which great change could be enacted for either good OR ill. A linchpin around which all other things had revolved. The Gunslinger had never heard the term, "butterfly effect", but if he had, he would have thought that it described the Tower perfectly.

During the years (how many he did not know, they were past and so did not matter) that he had struggled to complete his Quest and ascend the Tower, he had seen and done many things, some of which should not have been even fantasy, much less possible. He had seen the entire town of Tull, men, women, and children, fall before his guns, when the Man in Black had laid a trap for him there, enticing the entire town to attack him in a religious frenzy. He had let a boy fall to his death for his quest, fathered another once removed through time and distance (but who knew of such when dealing with Doors and realms, who knew if the even existed at all) by offering himself to a succubus, which later forced itself on a member of his new family of Gunslingers, with his own seed, many years hence. He had Drawn people from their own when and where to be unwitting servants in the completion of his Quest. He had taught them and made them into Gunslingers, all so that he could reach and climb the Tower. Along the way, all had fallen. Eddie, A man he would later come to think of as a son once told him, just after he had Drawn him into his world,"I could be bloody and screaming for help, and you would step right over me and keep walking if it meant giving up your precious Tower. God fucked you, my friend. He made you just hard enough to do that but just human enough that it would hurt anyway." Later on, MUCH later, he had stood in mute testimony at that same man's funeral. After which, what had he done? Why, pursue the Tower, of course. He had started as the Last, and in the end he had been the Last once again.

If Roland had been the sort of man given to introspection, he would have pondered how much of his quest had been to right the wrongs being done to his world (nay, ALL the worlds) by the imbalance spreading forth from the Tower like some malignant wave, and how much had been for himself. Had it really been Duty that had propelled him all those long years? Could he have stopped after freeing the Breakers? Would that have somehow altered the course and saved Eddie from the bullet that took him above the eye? Would it have saved Jake (and oh how it hurt sometimes to think on Jake, the boy he had let Fall once for his Quest, and then had failed to save after swearing to him never to let him fall again) from having to die twice for his own duty to the Quest and his Ka-tet? When the sun fell, Roland considered these things, for even a man as pragmatic as himself might question when all his friends, his Ka-tet were gone, and he was in a world not his own. Roland always worked around these questions in his mind, and in the end always came to the same inescapable conclusion: It would not. The Beam still needed to be firmly anchored at it's source ("But was that REALLY what you were doing, Roland? Are you SURE on that account?" the voice of the Man in Black would ask, laughing, when he thought that) Mordred was still loosed upon the world, and the Crimson King was still treading the levels of the Tower, gone mad from the razor-sharp metal he had swallowed, and infecting the Tower with his insanity. It might have been a little longer 'round, but Ka would have put in place what had been destined.

He tossed back the drink he held in his right hand, and then set the glass down and looked at that hand. Complete, all fingers still whole. The work of a young man named Patrick, a young man with a fantastic gift to make real whatever he drew upon the page. When Suzanna had left his world to return to her own, Patrick had gestured to his hand (the boy had either been mute or simply refused to speak) and began drawing. Oh, the pain! It had reminded him of the blood poisoning after the lobstrosities had lopped off the fingers in the first place, but so much deeper. The burning in fingers that should not have been there, hadn't been there since that first evening on that beach where the lobstosities scuttled to and fro, asking their questions( did-a-chick? dum-a-chum?) for which there had been no the boy had finished, and Roland had looked down at the hand he had been clasping against his gut, it had been WHOLE. Roland had looked at his hand in wonderment, turning it and flexing the fingers, afraid that it would turn out to be so much glammer. Suzanna Had looked between the two and, after looking through the door to her world, had quickly taken off the huge revolver she had been wearing for so long and tossed it at him. He had caught it in his (whole!) hand, docker's clutch holster and all. She said to him, large brown eyes full of grief, for her lost Husband, her (their) stolen boy, and most of all grief for HIM, for she surely knew that he would not abandon his Quest, and that it would certainly see him into the Clearing at the end of his path before much longer. "I think you're gonna need that a heap more than I will, Roland. My quest is over. I think that yours has just begun. Goodbye, Gunslinger. Fair Winds-",

"And following seas", he had answered. With those words she had rolled through the door into her world, head up and without looking back, as a Gunslinger should.

Before the next week had passed, he had killed his son Mordred (and oh how the Old Knights would have laughed to hear what the boy's name had been! It seems Ka follows even the blood of the generations!) as he tried to kill Roland, seen the last of his family die( a billy-bumbler named Oy) in the battle, ordered the death of the Crimson King by Patrick's hand, and at long last, sang the names of ALL his companions, all the members of his Ka-tet, as he had sworn to do so many long ages hence, and entered the Tower.

Of all the things he could have predicted when he entered the Tower, Roland would never had thought that he would be shown the bill he had totted up, all the sacrifices he had made, that his Ka-tet had made for him to reach this place. But on the way to the top level, Roland himself had done something to upset the Balance. He had picked up a small stone, a small piece of the Tower itself. As he had once done so long ago at the gallows for a cook named Hax, hung for treason, who had been kind to him in his youth. That splinter of wood was still in his breast pocket, alongside the piece of the Tower. Such a small thing! Only perhaps as a reminder in his later years, or perhaps even pride. If the Gunslinger had had any thought that ALL the effects from the Tower start as small things, (butterfly)he would have left well enough alone.

Whatever the Tower was, wherever it came from and whatever made it, it was never meant to pass through doors, only be the source of them. That small piece of stone(Aye, sure, stone, and old Black Thirteen was merely dark glass!) was what upset the balance, what sent the wheel of Ka spinning randomly to land him in this strange place. He had awoken to find a cross of silver around his neck(but hadn't he laid that at the base of the Tower, as he had promised he would?) his pack beside him on the ground, and his guns about his hips, both holsters once again mirror images of the other, when he had been so sure that the right gun would never rest there again, after all the work he had done to allow it to rest just under Suzanna's bosom. His hand, as well, was no longer rent on the terrible thorns or the sea of Roses that surrounded the Tower for a League or more. How was this possible? What else had he unwittingly changed? The terrifying thing had been that when he looked to the sky there had been NO PATH OF THE BEAM! None! Where had He been sent that the Tower's influence was gone?

Roland had, for the first time in his life, not known what to do.

After a time, (not so long as you might think, Roland of Gilead is nothing if not pragmatic) he had gotten his wits about him, checked his guns(full loads in both), shouldered his pack, and began walking towards the glow of lights on the horizon.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE: A Piece Of Mercy, For Them As Deserve It.

Jayne knew that the twenty meter distance and the three story drop would use up all the time on the grenade's fuses', so he didn't try any fancy "cook off" stunts. He just threw the two in his hands, snatched up the last one, pulled and threw it, aiming to get all three as close to the Alliance troops as he could. As soon as the last one had left his grip, he turned and ran the ten steps to where he had tied the rope onto the satellite antennae on top of the roof. No sooner had he double clicked the rope into the carabiner on his harness than he heard the first one blow. By the time he had shoved Vera around behind him and gotten over the edge he heard the next two go off. Fast as he dared he pushed off and pushed out with his legs, pushing his left hand go out and away, playing out slack. He was almost to the ground when he pulled his hand in, to slow himself down. Letting his hand out again, he landed in the side alley. Not bothering to try to fiddle with the carabiner, he just yanked Binky from his scabbard, cut the rope and yanked it off the 'biner. Replacing Binky in his scabbard, he rushed to the edge of the alley, bringing Vera around to the ready. When he peeked around the corner, he saw that at least three of the Alliance Hwoon-dans were down, and two more at least badly wounded. He was just bringing Vera to bear when the first soldier saw him and tried to bring his rifle into play.

"Too late, kid.", Jayne thought as he pressed Vera's trigger. The recoil smacked into him as he worked over the squad of Alliance soldiers, the heavy rounds from the Callahan punching through their armor and out the back. He had another four down before the rest even knew where the fire was coming from. Behind him he could hear his River "dancing", what she called it when she went to work on some poor soul who was either dumb enough or unlucky enough to be on her receiving end. Damn shame he couldn't watch, always one of the sexiest things in the Verse' to watch his little River-girl teach someone who the REAL big dog in the alley was. But he had a job to do on his end. Swapping out magazines as he hunted cover behind a parked ground car, he leaned out to the side of the car, sweeping Vera back and forth, putting a bullet to any part the Alliance was dumb enough to let him see. Two of the last three tried to maneuver on him, thinking that vehicles would be enough cover.

Bad mistake, and their last. The heavy rounds punched through the thin metal of the ground cars, and then on into the Alliance soldier hiding behind it. Jayne kept firing, into the one trying to move on him., the heavy bullets blowing him backward and down.

Jayne rose up to advance and get a better position, and almost ran right into the last purplebelly rising from the other side of the same car, clearly not expecting Jayne to be so close. Jayne whipped Vera's muzzle around toward him and placed it square in the middle of the soldier's forehead. He almost squeezed the trigger when he saw how damn young this soldier was, hell, he was just a kid!

"Drop it, boy.", Jayne growled out. The kid was shaking, clearly terrified at the prospect of his imminent demise.

"I said, DROP IT, boy!", Jayne barked out. The young soldier finally heard him, and an Alliance-issue rifle clattered to the sidewalk.

"Now run, boy. And don't stop where I can see you, or I'll kill you." The young man backed up a couple of steps, his eyes wide, then turned and ran.

Jayne watched for a couple of seconds, and then turned around and made his way to the mule, where Mal, Zoe, and River had been watching the exchange with some degrees of bemusement, and in the case of River, approval.

Jayne looked past the mule, and what he saw didn't surprise him one bit. Ten dead Alliance soldiers, nine with holes exactly between the eyes and one with his head at an angle Jayne was certain it wasn't supposed to be at. He looked over at River and asked, "you didn't even change magazines, did you?" his tone somewhere between jealous and amused.

"Man-Called-Jayne should know better by now." River said, her tone serious, but the amusement in her eyes told Jayne she wasn't, not even one bit. Jayne half-expected her to blow smoke off the muzzle of her pistol like some old western or some such.

"And that one?", Jayne asked, looking at the soldier with what looked like a broken neck.

"Decided to give him a sporting chance. Besides, Jayne knows how expensive ammunition is these days.", River replied, and Jayne knew she was just teasin' him a mite.

"Didn't take you for the merciful sort, Jayne.", Zoe said, her tone indicating she had clearly been expecting to see Jayne end the soldier's life.

"Aww, hell, Zoe, he weren't no more than a pup. If that boy was even shaving yet I'll give away Vera.", Jayne said, a little irritated. What did they think he was, anyway, some kinda monster? Zoe quirked an eyebrow at that, but refrained from saying anything else.

He climbing aboard the mule, getting in the back with River. "We get paid?", he asked, reloading Vera as he settled in to guard their back on the way back to the ship.

"Jayne, what did I say on the whole grenades issue?", Jayne looked over at Mal and saw that he didn't look exactly pleased as he started up the mule.

"Aww, hell, Mal it worked out ok, didn't it?", Jayne asked as the mule powered up, looking over at River for support when he saw she looked terrified, pale and shaking like a leaf.

"River-girl, what is it, what's wrong?" Jayne asked, looking her over, no she hadn't been hit, she hadn't gone loopy in forever, what-

The pain hit him like a freight train from Earth-that-was, making him grit his teeth and double over. He could hear Mal and Zoe in their seats cry out, tasted blood in the back of his throat and behind it all was a high pitched whine, and a phrase he had hoped he would never hear again, one he had had to soothe River from, after nightmares had her crying it out in her sleep.

"Two by Two, Hands of Blue, Two by Two, Hands of Blue, Two by Two Hands of Blue..."

And then his beautiful River-girl screamed like the Devil himself had shown up.

For her, He had.

River's scream drove Jayne up out of the pain, snapped him back to here and now, made his vision go RED, as he began to struggle to his feet, blood running from his nose and the corner of his mouth, and bring Vera into play. NO ONE made his baby girl scream like that, and Jayne Cobb was going to explain to them why that was a bad idea, oh yes, you could COUNT on that-

The whining went up in volume and Jayne sank back onto one knee in the mule's back seat, but he could lift his head up enough to see not two, but SIX of the blue-handed freaks in front of him, and for the first time in his life, Jayne Cobb knew what real fear was.

"Hello, Mr. Cobb," one of the creepy bastards said."It was good of you to take such good care of Ms. Tam for us, but we are now here to take back our property."

"She, ..she,", Jayne tried to say.

"Ahh, I believe Mr Cobb has something he wishes to tell us."The freak in the middle raised his hand slightly, and the one holding the box pressed some sort of control. "Please, by all means, Mr. Cobb, do go on." at that the volume of the box in one of the freaks' hands died down but didn't stop, but the pain lessened enough for Jayne to say, "She isn't yours, She ISN'T property, and her name is COBB, now!"

At that, what Jayne thought to be the leader of the group's condescending smile fell away to be replaced with a frown. He glanced at the Hand holding the box , and the whine stopped. He said,"you are telling me that the subject is married? To YOU? That she has in fact been exposed sexually? Been corrupted?" At that Jayne almost was able to swing at the freak while yelling,"That's my WIFE you're talking about, freak!"

"Well this is unacceptable, I am afraid. Now instead of simply eliminating you and your group you will in fact have to come with us as well, Mr Cobb."

"I ain't going with you, and you AIN'T leaving with her." At this the lead Blue Hand just smiled and said, "Oh, Mr Cobb, how wrong you are on BOTH accounts." During this exchange neither man had noticed that River had stopped her chanting and was simply sitting there, smiling serenely. One of the Hands looked at the other, and if their kind were capable of it, Jayne swore he would have seen apprehension in that look. "It seems that the subject might be having a psychotic break with reality." At this, the Blue Hand, looked at River and cocked his head slightly, While asking,"Ms. Tam? Do you know where, or who, you are? Are you aware of who we are, and where you must go today?"

River replied, in a calm sing-song with the same serene smile, " Don't ask me silly questions, I won't play silly games, I'm just a simple woman now, and I'll always be the same.

I just want to dance along beneath the clear blue sky, and be a good wife to my Jayne until the day I die."

No one noticed the door to the bar had opened across the street, or the boot-steps that came toward them during this (in Jayne's opinion) entirely too creepy rhyme. River smiled at the blue hand in front of her, and said," Oh, there's no need for your safe word. I won't hurt any of you, I promise." At this Jayne thought,"NO, she can't give up! Not after all this, what we found together! NO, River-girl, Baby, you can't just give in to em'!" River, still smiling, bent down and smoothed Jayne's hair and whispered, "Don't worry, my Jayne, all will be well."

She stood straight and said, "But he's right, you know. I am not yours anymore, to be your toy and experiment, to be violated and tortured against my will. Also, my name is not River Tam. River Tam no longer exists. She died in that Hell you told the world was a school for bright young minds. That place that conducted surgery after surgery, that drugged, tortured, and even raped that fourteen year old girl to death. What was freed by her beautiful, heroic brother was an insane weapon, that couldn't make sense of the thoughts and memories she was forced to be able to hear, or to be able to tell them from the real world around her. The person that came out of that gibbering, trembling mess was brought forth by patience, respect, kindness, and love. I am Her, and She is me, and my name is River Cobb, proud wife of Jayne Cobb. I am not going with you, neither is he. And every one of you are going to die here today."

The lead hand cocked his head again, in puzzlement, as he looked at River and asked, "Well then, Ms. Tam, Just how do you expect us to be killed, then? Your crew is near death, your supposed husband has not the strength to even stand, so if it is not you that kills us, then what do you think can possibly save you from us?"

No one had noticed the steps that stopped perhaps fifteen paces behind the Hands.

River looked over the lead Hand's shoulder, smiled just a little wider, and said," The White. The Coming Of The White."


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR: High Noon

Through the window of the saloon, Roland had noticed the two women and man go into the bank across the roadway a short while ago. Normally this would have been merely another part of the comings and goings of a busy building, but the gunslinger was a man who saw more than most in the details of things, could ken the hidden meanings in the way people moved, and in what they really meant underneath what was said. He saw the purposeful stride with which the three had moved, the two behind with determined looks of resolution people did not wear just to visit their coin, the economy of motion as they dismounted their small hovering craft (He still could not get used to the strangeness of a world in which he could see horses used, with saddle and bridle so like his own gear of long ago, and theses fantastic machines that did not even touch the ground over which they traveled! Even in New York had he not seen marvels like these.) and the strange grace of the young woman who seemed to not as much jump down from the craft but alight as a bird does from flight. The weapons slung low on the hip of the man and about the waist of the woman gave him no concern, as it seemed in this world the gun was not the weapon of a select, trained few, but almost as common as water. Neither did the pair of pistols on the hips of the younger one seem out of place, nor the briefest flash of light off the top of a knife just above her boot.

What DID seem strange, though, was the way the pair stopped at the entrance, as the young one stayed by the craft and waited until she gave a slight nod, and then let her go inside first, then the man, and lastly the woman, who gave a look about the street as though scanning for threats just as she slipped inside the door. Roland laughed slightly to himself. If one knew how to look, these three might as ought be waving a banner proclaiming their intention of relieving you of your wealth. He pondered a moment, and dismissed the thought of attempting to locate any local constables. This was not his world, nor was his wealth any place other than his purse within the pack at his feet. He turned slightly and looked further down the street, and then back up the opposite way, lastly along the rooftops. There! The slight movement of a man with a spyglass scanning the street could be seen. Roland sipped the drink in his hands slowly, letting the warmth of his hands seep into the whiskey. He had thought to move on today, seek what else this world had to offer, but it seemed there would be perhaps some small measure of excitement today.

In short order the older woman came out, bearing a sack of what could only be some form of money, the paper these folk called "credits", perhaps coin. The sack was deposited in the craft and a tarp pulled over it. Soon four more trips were made, each quickly hidden, as the gunslinger watched with bemusement. Movement upon the roof caught his eye, and Roland turned his gaze in the direction the spyglass swung, the smile dropping from his face. Approaching from the west were ten of this world's soldiers, with their odd weapons carried at low ready. Brows furrowing, Roland quickly looked toward the east, and saw a similar complement of troops. They almost seemed to be attempting to appear to be at ease, not appearing to block the street. The locals quickly realized, however, that a large amount of soldiers were on the same street as the local bank and that it might be best to be elsewhere.

Feeling a slight tug at the pack at his feet, Roland almost idly reached down and caught the young rascal attempting to lift his OWN goods by the scruff of the neck, and gave him a firm shake. Roland stopped to look at the boy. No older than perhaps eleven, certainly no more than twelve. Light blonde hair, almost reminding him of another boy he had known long ago. Shoving those memories away, Roland thought, "other than being so scrawny, reminds me almost of myself when his age. Always getting into more trouble than I could handle." Opening his mouth to give the lad a proper dressing down on the wrongs of thieving, or worse, getting caught, when a disturbing sense of wrongness filled his mind. Almost the same wrong sort of feeling one got when around the "low men" of the Crimson King, or one of the blood drinking creatures that some had called "the Grandfathers", but others had simply referred to as vampire. Keeping a boot firmly on the pack to discourage any fellows the young imp might have and a firm grip on the boy's neck, Roland looked up in time to see the barest edges of a tarp being pulled back, as the man above hooked a absurdly huge rifle to the battle-vest Roland could just barely make out him wearing in the glimpses of him he could make out behind the parapet. As well as the objects he saw him set to one side. Explosives of some sort, he realized.

The Gunslinger realized, between the large man atop the building clearly readying himself for battle, and the increasing sense of wrongness that was filling his awareness, this day had gone well past just some simple excitement, and was about to become a killing-ground. Turning his focus to the boy still in his grip, Roland said,"Any other day would see you with a switch across the legs and some time spent with the lawmen of this place. But trouble is nigh across yon roadway and if you have the sense of a half bred cur you will get far away from this place, boy!" at that he let the boy go, as the youngster's eyes cut out the window and widened, seeing the soldiers and the empty street for the first time, having been previously occupied with the theft of the gunslinger's purse. "Go NOW, for your Father's sake!" Roland said, giving the boy a slight shove towards the rear door of the tavern.

Turning and shouldering his pack in one move, Roland slipped off the barstool, noticing that the other patrons and the barkeep had already left out the back. moving to the side of the window, he saw the first of the large man's devices hurled from the roof. The explosions that rocked the street were obviously unexpected by the first group of soldiers,If the cries of pain and shock were any indication. At the third explosion, Roland looked out the window, to see the large man sliding down a rope from the roof in long bounds, to land in the alleyway, pull a large knife and simply cut the rope from the harness rather than waste time with trying to disengage it. Roland gave an approving nod, thinking that Cort would have given a rare compliment for the efficiency shown under stress. But, Roland thought, Cort might have had a problem disciplining that one, as he could fully see the man in the alley was at least an inch taller than him and half again as broad, reminding him for an instant of his old friend Alain, whom had also had the build of a smallish grizzly bear.

As the large man followed the muzzle of his rifle around the corner and began to engage the soldiers, Roland heard a smaller weapon firing on the other group. Turning his head, the gunslinger could only stare, open mouthed in shock. He had bee expecting to see the older woman, whom had seemed so purposeful in her stride and carriage, or perhaps the other man, who had seemed to lead the group. Not this girl, barely a woman, and her speed! She was firing upon these men, whom the gunslinger realized would ALL be in their clearing at the end of their paths in a twinkling, with speed that rivaled his own, even in his youth had he not been faster than this! As well, her accuracy was simply astounding, each man receiving a round from her pistol exactly between the eyes, except for the last, poor fool tried to fight, as she was too close for his odd rifle to be brought into play. Roland watched with appreciation as the girl(woman?) simply leaned back to avoid the clumsy roundhouse punch that he threw, to execute a kick to the underside of his chin that should have defied the bounds of normal human flexibility. The loud crack of the soldier's neck breaking was audible even as the gunfire from the other direction stopped. Roland turned in time to see the large man give the last soldier a choice for his life. As the soldier turned and ran, Roland saw how young he was, clearly too young to be in the profession he was in. "More than just a gunman, then," the gunslinger mused, approving of the show of mercy to an enemy.

The large man turned and walked back toward the craft, upon which the rest of his fellows had already boarded, and Roland noticed the ease with which he spoke with the others, and the familiarity, between him and the girl. "Lovers, perhaps? They seem a bit different in their ages, but Ka knows I've seen stranger pairings.", Roland thought as he heard the door to the building open next to the saloon, and six _creatures_, each in the dress of some sort of well-to-do merchant, but with the strange gloves that he had come to associate with the doctors of this place, walked into the street. They may have worn the shapes of men, but the sense of _wrongness_ that poured off of them was as palpable as the stink of a week old corpse. Then he heard the Girl scream, as though her greatest nightmare had been given life.

Almost as if it was a cue, the (low) men began to produce some sort of whining noise from a strange box in the hands of one on the left. A weapon, Roland realized, as the people on the craft began to cry out in pain and blood. The girl turned in terror and for the first time the Gunslinger saw her face clearly, and was struck dumb with wonder, "How could this be? Her hair is black instead of golden, but,..._Susan_?" the face of his one true love from so long ago, contorted with pain and fear. The face he had last seen, through Maerlyn's Glass being burned alive at the stake as she screamed out her love for him. Once again, before him in pain and fear. (It's not her, Gunslinger, wrong lifetime, wrong world, wrong _when) _the Man in Black said in his mind. Roland simply snarled at him, and the voice fell silent, as almost of their own will, his feet moved through the batwing doors of the saloon into the street. Slow, measured steps, until he was but within a few paces of these _things _wearing the shapes of men. As he walked, Roland was almost startled into stillness when he heard the Rhyme of Blaine the Mono coming from the lips of the girl, whom had stopped shaking, and stood as straight and tall as any Gunslinger ever born. Roland kept coming, as he heard the horrors inflicted and endured, upon a CHILD, and for the first time in a long while felt the Battle Fire creep into his blood, felt the indifference to a world not his own fall away, felt the strength of purpose, of meaning, of what is is to be a Gunslinger return, and he knew that none of these _things_ would leave this place.

_(THE WHITE! THE COMING OF THE WHITE!)_

"You. Low Men. Put down yon weapon and leave this place, or prepare to see the clearing at the end of the path."

At this, the men all turned as if as one, to see a man, stood straight, hat pulled low over his eyes, long brown duster ripple slightly in the wind down the street, with a pair of revolvers slung low about his hips, weapons that looked old enough to be from Earth-That-Was. The true cause for concern, however, was the man's face, which looked to be carved from stone, and just as unyielding.

"I do not know whom you think you are addressing, but we act with full authority and authorization of the Alliance Parliment. I strongly advise you to depart immediately." The lead hand said, as a completely unfamiliar sensation went down his spine. _What is this?_ He wondered, and then realized it was fear.

"I care not for whatever false authority you believe yourselves to hold, Nor for any body of supposed 'authority' that would visit the horrors I just heard described upon the minds and bodies of children. I am Roland Deschain, Son of Steven, of the Land of Gilead, a land brought low by things such as yourselves, things that lacked any humanity, once known by me and others as "Breakers". I swore long ago a quest to end the harm they were a part of in that land, and was certain I had prevailed. I see now that I was wrong, That your kind are in all places, and all times. In so doing I thought myself the last of my kind, of my _Ka-tet_, and swore they would not have fallen in vain. In deference to their memory and my OWN humanity I give you one chance: Leave this place now or die."

Reaching down and mustering up the cold indifference that had been his for the entirety of his service to Parliment, the lead hand asked," Oh, really? And just what are you that we should surrender our property, duly owned by the Alliance, and leave without quarrel?"

Roland simply said,"the Last Gunslinger of Gilead." Before he drew his guns, and it was as fair and true as it ever was, smooth and fast as heat lightning in a hot summer sky. Faster than the eye could follow, he came up and aligned with the hands on either end of the group, triggering shots from each hand simultaneously, almost sounding like one,the heavy .45's booming and sending very large bullets unerringly into the center foreheads of the hands to the far left and right.

"I do not aim with my hand"

"He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his Father"

"I aim with my eye"

The memory of Cort's voice, teaching them the most important thing, the core of it all, clear as if yesterday, while two hands fell into the dust of the road, most of their heads gone from the eyebrows up, their eyes a good deal emptier than an instant earlier.

"I do not shoot with my hand"

"He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his Father"

"I shoot with my Mind."

The age old mantra went through his mind as another pair of shots sounded on the heels of the first two, and another pair of hands fell in the dust as the upper halves of their heads simply disappeared.

"I do not kill with my gun."

"He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his Father."

"I kill-

As the Gunslinger swiveled to the last pair, the hand on the left tried to bring the strange weapon to bear on Roland, who simply shot it out of his hand and then put a bullet between his eyes. Turning to the final hand, Roland was almost on target when the sound of the Girl's pistol barked across the street, A hole appearing in the side of the final hands head, who fell like a puppet with cut strings. As the silence descended upon the street once more, her clear, strong voice could be heard:

"I kill with my Heart."


End file.
